


Club Soda (on the ruffles)

by stateofintegrity



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stateofintegrity/pseuds/stateofintegrity
Summary: Why should cleaning delicates be a chore?
Relationships: Maxwell Klinger/Charles Emerson Winchester III
Kudos: 7





	Club Soda (on the ruffles)

“There were easier ways to get me out of my fatigues, Major.”

“Your drollery has me close to rolling on the floor, I’m sure. As I have already explained, I tripped.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“Clothing being so central to your most peculiar being, I assume you know how best to remove chocolate from army green?” 

“Green, schmeen. Club soda will do it, but who cares? It’s the ruffles that need cleaned!” He wriggled out of his shirt, revealing Paris runway-worthy lingerie, speckled with the syrupy chocolate that had soaked through. 

_ What sweet, mad confection is this?  _

“C-club soda won’t serve in this case?” 

“50-50 chance. It had to be the  _ white _ .” He sounded thoroughly disgusted. 

“Do not despair, Corporal. I will make amends for my error.” He reached for his wallet.

“I don’t want your money, Major. Sheesh. It was an accident.” 

Charles slipped a finger under one of the straps. “Still, it is a shame that something so pretty should be a casualty of war.” 

Klinger watched that finger move - so lightly- over his naked shoulder. It then removed a droplet of chocolate from his neck. He brought the finger to his mouth and licked the chocolate off. 

“Corporal, what would you say to giving this delicate piece of yours a good death?” 

Klinger’s eyes were caught by that mouth. “I, uh, I know you outrank me, Major, so, excuse me, but could you talk plain a minute?”

“My pleasure. Maxwell, would you allow me to taste you?” He smiled to see his painted mouth drop open in pure shock. “Plain enough for you, darling?” 

“Tripped, huh?”

“Causing myself to lose my balance in your presence is still tripping.”

“Can you do it again or do you need my help?” 

“I’m a Winchester, I’ll manage.” And though Klinger could not have described the precise mechanism by which he did it, they did end up tangled together on the bed.

Charles’ hands were beneath the lace, warmth-seeking, and his tongue was enthusiastically removing the residue the cake had left on Klinger’s skin. Pressing kisses to the Corporal’s quivering belly, Charles felt for a clasp to release him from the top part of the lingerie and smiled when Klinger closed his eyes. 

_ How you’ve wanted this. To be seen  _ **_for yourself_ ** _ , touched in the form you’ve chosen. I wonder…  _

“You are trembling,” he informed Klinger. “Are you seeking to communicate something with your wedding-white finery?” Klinger’s eyes opened, dark, a little dazed with wanting. “Am I your first, lovely girl?” 

A shy nod thrilled him and he smiled and stroked Klinger’s face (Max turning his head to kiss his fingers) and down his neck. “Gently, then,” he promised. “I would not wish for someone as lovely as you to be frightened.”

Charles had never had a bride… and if he had, he suspected they would have taken an altogether more civilized approach to cake.  _ And wouldn’t that have been a shame?  _

Guiding Klinger onto his back, Charles stroked over his ribs, framed his hips, still in fatigues. Without bothering with the belt or the clasps, he lowered his mouth over the obvious (even through clothes) sign of Klinger’s desire. He couldn’t have said which was producing more heat - his mouth or that place between the Corporal’s legs. Klinger’s shoulders twisted against the cot. He then did something he’d never done; in his thoughts, he thanked the mess tent for something it had churned out. 

“Don’t tease me like that, Major,” the Corporal whined. 

“It only counts as teasing if I fail to follow through, Max.” 

“Let’s go, then. I know there was chocolate involved but don’t linger over your dessert, huh?” 

Charles splayed a hand over his stomach; it was all he needed to hold him in place. “It isn’t lingering,” he corrected. “It’s savoring.” 

“Call it whatever you want. I just want to feel your mouth on me.” 

Charles kissed and sucked along his waistband without removing his hand, pleased to see he could make Klinger’s hips move for him. The ridges of them arched to chase the soft kisses he ghosted over them. 

“Not there!” 

“You are very demanding for someone so small.”

“I’m a perfectly normal height, your immenseness-ness, and I figured this might be my only chance. May as well make it fit what I imagined.” 

There was a glint in the surgeon’s eyes that Klinger was almost certain was connected to the use of the word “immense,” likely followed by some variation of “oh, darling, you have no idea.” “You desire further, ah, chances?”

Klinger smiled at the “ah.” He had made Charles shy, it seemed. “All the chances. Everything you’ll give me. Whatever I can talk you into.”

“Considering the things you’ve persuaded the U.S. government to undertake, I tremble to discover what will become of me.” 

“I do kinda hope you’ll tremble, Major. It’d be real pretty to see. Now, are you gonna take my belt off or should we swap places so I can show you how this should go?” 

Because they were not cartoon characters, the speed at which Charles performed this request did not cause the cheap leather to actually catch fire, but Klinger thought it was a close thing. And when the Major bent to take him in, Klinger pushed inside with a dare ya smile backed up by a need that was far too extreme for the small amount of touching they had exchanged. 

Charles allowed this, but then his eyes flicked up and found Klinger’s and the Corporal knew he was in trouble. 

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Klinger’s head lolled on the pillow, static creating blue sparks in his dark hair. “Surgery’s not your only calling, baby.” 

Charles splayed long fingers over his trembling stomach again. All that writhing was flattering, but he wanted to focus his sweet pet, make Max really feel the attentions of his tongue. 

The Major wasn’t the most demonstrative creature as a rule, but, before Max, he’d never served himself a  _ person _ as dessert before, either. Ignoring old inhibitions, he made low, small sounds of encouragement that made his Corporal shake for him, hips pumping. Klinger being Klinger, however, wasn’t going to let him have the last word. 

Vulnerable as he’d never been with anyone else, Max forced himself to look in those eyes - and beg. “Please?” he finished. “I think about it all the time.” 

His mouth didn’t go slack, but it softened. And his eyes communicated a host of things: that he didn’t want to stop what he was doing, that he found Maxwell terrifically bold and was half-helpless for him already, that he wanted to do what was asked but was unsure if he could do both. Klinger read all that and flashed his best schemer’s smile. “You got this, baby. You’re a Winchester, remember?” 

Charles couldn’t laugh; not only did laughing during sex seem like madness to the staid creature, he didn’t think Max would appreciate it, considering the placement of his tongue. But he thrilled to think he’d met his match. He’d had cake already; now it seemed Maxwell intended him to eat his words! His clever girl had just repurposed every boast he’d ever made. Now he  _ had  _ to live up to them. 

And Max knew it. 

His wide, dark eyes were pure admiration as Charles lowered his zipper. The Major let his Corporal help with the next part, let him dampen his fingers, the motions of their mouths matched and hungry. It took a certain amount of stubborn willpower to retract those fingers and Klinger made a flatteringly deprived noise when he did. He made an even better sound - high and breathless - when Charles began to stroke himself in time with what he was doing to him. 

“There ya go, Major. I knew you could do it. Now show me what it looks like when you fall apart just for me.” 

Charles had affected falling to get here, on his knees between shapely legs that were shaking for him, but even if he’d sunk to subterfuge, he was still a gentleman.  _ Ladies first, darling.  _

The cry seemed to crack in the Corporal’s throat; he clutched and clawed and cried his way up the peak, eyes gone wide with wanting, but he gave himself completely over to Charles on the way down, let him guide him through the aftershocks. Then he slid down the cot with a grace Charles could scarcely believe, given that he was on his back, and brought him off with his mouth. The look of him - flushed, satisfied, chest heaving as he exalted in his newfound favorite skill - moved inside of Charles’ heart to live forever. 

“You sure add a twist to washing out delicates,” he said then, nuzzling against the taller man. “Wanna make all the other parts of my life just as fun?” 

“If you will lend your charming form and inexhaustible brightness to mine.” 

Max promised he would do so - in style. 

End! 


End file.
